Redemption
by Andrew Rice
Summary: For so long Pasiphae has kept her secret, and now it is revealed. But time is running out for Atlantis, and eternity beckons...
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so this is my first my first attempt at a Fanfic of any type, anytime! This begins at the point in the trailer for season 2 (the last season it seems, unfortunately, unless there's a change of heart by the BBC), when Pasiphae finally tells Jason who she really is. **

**I'd like to know what folks think of it, and hopefully continue the story as and when I can.**

* * *

**Redemption **

"_I AM YOUR MOTHER_"!

The words, flung in desperation and without thought, rang in his ears as they echoed and re-echoed through the warm summer night, the force of their impact like that of a hammer-blow to his chest. Abruptly he could not breathe, the very air seeming to choke him even as the torches mounted on the pale stone walls guttered in their holders. Arrested in the action of walking, he stared unseeingly out across the faint outline of the city below, the darkened rooftops contrasting with the tiny lights of the rush lit windows, the sounds from within the dwellings lost in the breeze that had seemed even to have silenced the cicadas, but yet could not silence the pounding of his heart.

_I AM YOUR MOTHER_!

His hands contracted into fists as the words hung before him, thoughts racing through his head as he fought to deny them, to push them aside.

_For God's sake this is Pasiphae! She'll say anything to save her skin! How many times has she tried to kill you, to kill Ariadne? How many times? How can she be this? _

In the space of seconds the thoughts became a tumult, a raging cascade of anger and confusion that threatened to pull him down even as the very ground beneath him felt as if it had given way.

_This can't be! It can't! She's a monster, a killer, ruthless and ambitious! _

Yet somehow, in some strange way, he knew that she wasn't lying at all.

_I AM YOUR MOTHER_.

In silence Pasiphae watched as the young man before her slowly turned, the torchlight playing on his finely-etched features and unruly hair, his eyes, so like her own, searching her face through the rough bars of the cage, and suddenly he was a youth no more, but a confused, dazed child, incredulous, frightened to understand and yet needing to do so. For a moment he was that little boy she remembered so well, and from somewhere deep within her, despite her anger, despite her pain and hatred and bitterness, despite it all, she felt an irresistible need to hold him close, to take away the shadows from his mind.

A need that she'd never believed she would ever feel again.

"What...what... did ...you ...say?"

His voice, normally strong and confident, now seemed to her to tremble, and, without realising it, she found herself responding to him, the defences and barriers that she had so carefully built crumbling in the face of her revelation as the feelings overwhelmed them like a flood tide, as unstoppable as the sea itself. For so long she had denied them, had steeled herself to keeping them as far away as possible from her heart, even to point of telling herself she could never again allow herself to accept the love of a mother for her son, and yet now, as Jason stood looking down at her, there was nowhere left to hide, no more bolt holes to run to.

Nor, she found to her surprise, did she want to.

A revelation indeed.

An indrawn, shaky breath, and then the words came, her tone much softer now.

"I am your mother"

Silence fell between them, broken only by the muted roaring of the torches. Still he stood, unmoving, his eyes focussed only upon her own, the thoughts and feelings racing through his head. For so many years he had wondered about the woman who had given birth to him, what she'd looked like, sounded like, felt like. For so long he had thought her dead.

And now she was here, in front of him, in flesh and blood.

His enemy.

Yet, he realised with a start, it was this enemy that had tried to tell him the truth. When he had been briefly her prisoner, when he had woken to find her staring down at him with a strange expression on her face that he hadn't understood at the time, she had tried to tell him. _I am not who you believe me to be_. He hadn't wanted to listen though, hadn't been ready. He'd only seen before him the woman who'd threatened his life and the life of those he loved, and when she had been close to telling him, he had let his fury explode, had wrapped chains about her neck, and then his hands.

He had almost_ killed_ her...

His own _mother_.

Without fully realising what he was doing, he knelt, bringing himself level to her, and when he finally spoke, his voice was hesitant, little more than a whisper on the breeze.

"I..."She watched as he swallowed hard, trying to contain his feelings, "I...know"

With deliberate slowness, Pasiphae reached out through the makeshift bars, her fingers outstretched, tips brushing the skin of his cheek with a touch that he barely felt, yet that seared into him like a firebrand. She felt him instinctively flinch, and the breath caught in her throat like a sob.

_He fears me!_

And yet, she reasoned, could she really have expected anything else? Blinded by her fury, her jealousy and ambition and unknowing of his lineage, she had threatened his life many times, wished him dead, had even used sorcery against him. For so long had he been a shadow at the margins of her life, his path inexplicably crossing with hers, and she had never understood, had never thought of the answer that had been staring her, quite literally, in the face.

She had done all of that to him, yet, touched by the Gods as she herself was, he had survived.

But at what cost, to both him...and to herself?

"Jason..." She began, but her voice faltered, for faced now with the son that she had so grieved for, the great reserves of her iron will had now deserted her. So long had she been forced to wear her indifference as an actor would a mask, the depth of her loss an unspoken tragedy that no-one else could comprehend. From her earliest years the obligations of duty, to one's family, to one's position and to one's husband, had been taught and reinforced, forcing her to bury her own desires for life deep inside her, to lock them away in a place that only she could access them. Yet with the loss of her son had come the burning brand of her fury and her sorrow, the need to punish and retaliate, to push herself into a place that would be unassailable and from where she could never be hurt like that again.

Then, after so many years, she had found he had survived, taken by his father to some other place, and hope had briefly flickered once more, a small candle burning in the veil of what had been. She had bided her time, followed him, watched him, even killed one her own archers for him.

But, when it seemed that the fates had brought him into her hands, he had tried to kill her, unknowing of who she really was, seeing her only as an enemy. Deeply wounded and driven by the madness of revenge, she had ordered his death, but he had managed to escape, and soon after had come the news of his betrothal to Minos's daughter.

Seething at his treachery she'd vowed to take the throne of Atlantis, to wound him as deep as he had wounded her. She would take away all of his dreams as she'd had hers taken from her, and would leave him shattered and broken in her wake as she'd swept to power. The throne would have been hers, her armies all conquering and mighty, and he would have either had to bow to her, or to die, in the face of the truth of his birth.

A suitable vengeance for a mother scorned...or so she had thought.

But it had not happened as she had envisaged. She had won the day, but he and those loyal to Ariadne had fought back, and they had beaten her forces, forcing her niece and the others to flee. Captured and alone, she'd faced them, sword in hand and prepared to die, but it had been Jason that had stepped forward, Jason who had talked to her, Jason who had persuaded her to lower her weapon. He'd talked, her gaze holding hers, unarmed and yet unafraid and she had, perhaps for the first time, really listened to him. She'd wanted to hate him, to lunge forward and plunge the blade into his chest, and yet she had stood still, listening to his quiet voice, the voice that she had ached to hear so long ago.

And as she'd listened, slowly the madness had receded to leave her standing before him, no longer a Queen, but no longer blind.

Her nemesis, the Oracle had named him, the one to be feared. Yet, as she stared into his boyish face she could find little to fear in him. He was a fighter, agile and resourceful with the abilities that the Gods had blessed him with, but here, in this shadowed courtyard with no-one between them, he seemed more fragile than she had ever seen him before, and so terribly, painfully young, as she herself had been so many years ago.

_My son. _

A sensation startled her from her brief reverie, a drop of moisture on her cheek, and to her surprise she realised tears had come unbidden to her eyes. Where, she wondered, was the strong woman she had been? The woman unable to be touched by an outside emotion, her feelings sealed within a block of stone? How had he wrought this change within her, when she had tried so hard to harden her heart to him?

And yet, as the tears fell and could no longer hold them back, she no longer cared.

Kneeling at the bars, Jason hadn't moved, his mother's hand still at his cheek. So much had happened to him in so brief a time, his arrival here, his friends, the love he'd found, even the finding of his father. But behind it all had been the mystery of his mother, the enigma of his birth that even the Oracle had declined to answer. Had she known all this time, he wondered? Always she had been evasive whenever he'd raised the subject, as ever not quite telling all of the matter at hand, but only a little. Had she lied to him? Had she used her claim of the Gods only showing what they did as the ultimate shield behind which to hide, for who would dare to question one so revered as she?

His mind reeled from the truth, still unwilling to accept it. For so long he had learned to despise this woman, this hard-hearted Queen who had held herself above all others, a woman who had schemed and plotted behind the scenes, manipulating others like Heptarion and Telemon to do her bidding, biding her time until she could take the ultimate step and become sole ruler of all Atlantis. He had witnessed her temper, had seen her determination and iron will, but again he found himself thinking back to that cell, and her face above him as he'd woken. The look in her eyes then had been very different, softer, gentler..._caring_ even.

Now, as he looked into that grime streaked face framed by a wild tangle of hair that was normally so bound so neat and tidy, he saw again the memory of that meeting, and with it a sorrow that could not be denied. With a trembling hand he reached up, and his fingers found hers, interlacing with them as he found his voice

"_Mother..._

Pasiphae heard his hoarse whisper, felt the touch of his fingers in hers, warm and strong, and slowly she drew him closer to her, he unresisting her gentle pull until their heads were almost touching through the bars, their tears mingling together.

"_Son..._" She murmured, closing her eyes as the emotions coursed through her, "_My son..."_

And around them, the world began to shake...


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to all those who have reviewed chapter 1, and my apologies for not getting round to writing chapter 2 until now as unfortunately real life has to intrude and the priorities of my job have to come first – it does, after all, pay the bills! I also wanted to find a clear direction for this story to be able to continue.**

**So, I hope that you enjoy this 2****nd**** instalment, and I of course welcome an reviews as I continue on with the story!**

* * *

The world shook...and Poseidon spoke.

Hidden by swirling grey smoke within the shadows of his temple, the Oracle stood motionless before the ceremonial fire, her eyes seeing nothing except the eternal dance of the flames and what they held within, seemingly oblivious to the shouts and cries echoing through the shadowed columns and of the falling debris from above. Beneath her voluminous cowl her lips moved in silent prayer, the words flowing from mouth without conscious thought, a chosen one of the God trained from her cradle to open the veils between worlds and to see beyond them as only the chosen ones could.

Dimly she was aware of her name being called, of fleeting shadows in the murky, dust-filled distance, but even as the very ground beneath her bare feet moved and the rumbling sounds filled her ears she could think of nothing but the fire before her. Power coursed through her slender form, emanating from beyond her ability to know but rising, rising and rising again within her, consuming her in its fiery grip. Others, untrained and unknowing, would not have understood, but as the moon waxed and waned, as the seasons moved one to another and she had learned the ways of the Gods, so she had learned to accept such feelings as the gifts of her holy office.

But this was different. It was a brutal fury the like of which she had never known, a tidal wave of savage anger that pulled her with it, passing through her, over her, around her until nothing seemed to be left of her and she knew not where she ended and another began, filling her with a dread and terror as it had never done this many years before.

Before her unseeing eyes the fire grew, its flames leaping and roaring, building higher and higher to obliterate all else with its heat and thirst for destruction, and within its heart she heard it, heard the deep, booming voice that had echoed in her sweetest dreams and had dogged her most terrible nightmares, that had directed her every action, her every word in this sacred place and that had reverberated all through her life from her earliest years.

The voice of Poseidon, calling to his messenger, drawing her nearer to the inferno.

And, as the flames grew ever stronger, she had no choice but to obey.

* * *

_"Gods!"_

Hercules, roused from his ale-soaked stupor, staggered to the door, heaving it open to stand and stare, bleary-eyed and swaying, out into the Palace grounds. Around him the basso rumbling continued, the very floor beneath his feet seeming to vibrate and judder as if by the action of some live creature below. He tried to focus against the sudden harshness of the torchlight, his fogged brain seeing only shifting shapes and colours, and he squinted as he heard shouts and screams echoing through the night from beyond the stout walls of the royal gardens.

Walls that appeared to be _moving_...

"_Hercules!"_

Hearing his name called above the cacophony of noise he whirled, almost falling as a large piece of ornately carved marble crashed to the tiled floor beside him, his eyes seeing little through the choking layers of dust. Choking, he slumped back against the door frame, his lungs fighting to breathe through the miasma surrounding him even as slender hands grabbed at his own and he heard Pythagoras's voice at his side.

"_Keep down!" _He was shouting, "_Keep down!"_

More pieces of carvings fell, their smashing impacts joining with the terrible, grinding rumbling from the ground below. Unseen by either of them, the city itself trembled and shuddered in the grip of the quake, the ancient buildings juddering as their very foundations twisted and tore. Roofs and columns, unable to bear the sudden strain, teetered and collapsed, trapping and killing those who sought to flee, the broken stones splashed red with their blood as the life left their eyes.

Then, abruptly, it was over.

Coughing and retching, the two friends, one a burly wrestler with more tales than truth within him, the other a man fascinated by the minutiae of life, held onto each other for a few minutes before attempting to rise, their clothes covered in grey powder and broken fragments of tiles, looking about them with incredulous, disbelieving stares. Statues that had been pristine were now shattered, the earth that they had stood on rent asunder as if by a giant's hand, the cracks extending like a spider's web up into the palace buildings themselves, and over everything lay a thick pall of black smoke, evidence upon the wind, if any were needed, of the many cooking fires that had been set free to ravage the roofs and timbers alike.

A scene of destruction, and of a God's wrath visited upon his servants.

Still trembling a little, Pythagoras turned to his companion, his voice low and full of horror.

"Have you ever seen the like of this?"

For a long moment, Hercules did not answer, then, without looking, slowly shook his head.

"No," He said, his own voice hoarse. Gods, but he was thirsty, his throat parched beyond belief from the dust laden air "Not as big as this"

Pythagoras's eyes widened. "Then what..." He began to say, but a glance from Hercules stopped him from continuing. There was anger in that glance, the same anger that had consumed him only hours before when he had witnessed the death of his beloved Medusa, the woman he'd loved and lost and then lost again when Pasiphae had attempted to use her as a deadly weapon against the armies of Atlantis. Cursed by her own curiosity, she had lived as a recluse, veiled from the world and knowing that with one look she could turn men to stone. Pasiphae had found her, had told her she could cure her, and she, deep in despair and desperate, had believed her. Using magic Pasiphae had tricked her, and it had only been through sheer luck that Jason and the Oracle had found a way to defeat both the curse and Pasiphae's influence.

But the joy of her freedom had been short lived.

Atlantis had been attacked once more and, as she had tried to tend to the wounded, a stray arrow had embedded itself in her, its barbed point tearing through flesh to find her heart beneath. Hercules had raced to her, shouting for Pythagoras, but it had been to avail. She had died in his arms, the breath leaving her body even as he held her tightly to him and looked down into her eyes. So young she had been, so young and full of life once more.

And it had been taken from her, as swiftly as a thief might take a purse in the night.

Amidst the destruction and chaos, the big man seemed so alone, the fury and sorrow of his soul etched upon his face, and Pythagoras felt his heart go out to him. He had lost the one thing that had meant so much to him, and, unlike the curse, it could never be reversed.

The sounds of shouted calls shook him back to reality, and he looked round to see men of the palace guard running towards them, their own clothing and armour dishevelled and torn. Ilios, the seasoned veteran that had succeeded Dion as their Captain, came to them, his face streaked with grime and blood from a gash on his forehead, his chest heaving beneath his battered leather breastplate.

"Thank the Gods you are alive!" He gasped, grabbing at Pythagoras's hand," Given the damage to the Palace, we had thought the worst"! He looked over Hercules's shoulder, frowning "The King is not with you?"

"He wasn't with the Queen?"

Ilios shook his head. "No, they had retired for the night, but when the maidservants went to fetch them, only the Queen was present"

Hercules looked at the man, as if seeing him for the first time. "Was she hurt?"

"No, Gods be thanked!"

"But there was no sign of Jason?"

The man's silence told them all they needed to know, and despite his own sorrow, Hercules felt concern rising within him as he exchanged glances with Pythagoras. Jason was no fool, but he had often done things before without thinking them through. If he had decided to take some notion into his head, then who knew where he could be...or even if he was still alive?

No, the thought had to be buried. Jason had to be alive, had to be. He couldn't have borne it, and his own wound was still too raw for another to be made.

"Then we need to find him," He said, urgency filling his voice as he reached for one of the few torches left on the wall behind him, "And find him quickly, before anything else happens!"

* * *

It was over...for now.

Jason stirred, his vision swimming as he became aware of a woman's voice urgently calling his name, his shoulders being shaken. Dust stung his eyes and burned in his throat, and felt himself retching as he tried to breathe.

"Jason...easy Jason...easy now"

A woman's voice...Pasiphae's voice...

His _mother's _voice...

The thought wakened him back into consciousness, his eyes clearing to find Pasiphae looking down at him, her expression one of obvious and serious concern. Groaning he moved to sit up, but felt her hand on his chest, stopping him.

"No, not yet," He heard her say, "Not too fast. Take a few breaths first"

Shaking a little, and without knowing really why, he obeyed her. His innards felt as if they were on fire, the pain stabbing at him each time he took a lungful of the particle laden air, his heart beat slowing as the oxygen reached the tissues and the adrenaline gradually faded from his body. He frowned, realising that his mother was right above him, and glanced to one side to see the cage that she had been in lying smashed beneath a pile of rubble and debris.

Pasiphae followed his stare, and, although he was still dazed, he felt her restraining hand shake a little, and, swallowing hard, he finally found his voice.

"Wha...what happened?"

She looked back down at him, and in the torchlight suddenly he was reminded of a painting in a book that he'd once seen, its title long forgotten, an old medieval illustration of a woman's face surrounded by a halo, her hair a coronet of flame as she'd knelt at the bottom of the cross.

"You don't remember?" She asked, and he shook his head.

"The earth shook," She said quietly, and in a tone that to his amazement sounded very much as if it were tinged with awe, "The earth shook and I would have been dead...but you pulled me clear so quickly and with such _strength_"

Jason lay back. The quake had come so suddenly, and he'd shouted at Pasiphae to get down, but as to the rest...it was all a blur, and then nothing. Acutely he was aware of his mother so close to him, and with it came a strange realisation.

"You could have run" He said, slowly raising himself to look directly into her face, his eyes locked with hers," You could have run for freedom"

"But I did not"

He cocked his head, one eyebrow rising in an unconscious echo of his mother," Then why didn't you?" He asked, "Why didn't you take the chance?"

Pasiphae held his gaze, and was about to answer when she felt the coldness of steel prick her skin and her eyes widened in response.

"I am not so easily persuaded" Hissed a voice, "So tell _me_ why you didn't run?"

Jason started up in protest, seeing Hercules before him, the tip of his sword at his mother's throat and his swarthy features contorted in a rictus of fury and disgust. Behind him he could see Pythagoras and the guards, as well as the delicate features of his wife and queen, her own face hard and unyielding as she took in the scene before her. Relief at her safe and uninjured state was mixed with sudden fear, for he knew the depths of Hercules's despair and of his need for revenge.

"Hercules," He began, but a look from Pasiphae silenced him. Suddenly the former Queen again, she turned her head to look deeply into her captor's eyes, the sheer power of her stare forcing him to take a back step as she slowly rose to her feet, the sword tip still close to her flesh, and when she spoke, her words echoed around the broken and splintered walls that surrounded them.

"I did not run," She said, emphasising each and every word, "Because I am Jason's mother"

Seeing Ariadne's look of disdain, she drew herself to her full height, her gaze sweeping across them. Let them think what they liked. A new emotion was coursing through her, and for the first time she welcomed it, for it was giving her a renewed strength of will that she had not thought possible, a deep fire that had now been lit and that could not be extinguished.

_I am his mother_...

Jason too had got to his feet, and he was reaching out, pushing the blade away from her, moving to step between her and his friend.

"I know" He said, taking hold of his shoulder, "I know. But this is not the way. You know it too."

Hercules was staring at him, and he felt tears welling at the corners of his eyes. The torment that his friend was suffering was all too evident, and he dropped his voice.

"Think what Medusa would have wanted"

For a long moment the wrestler did not move, his gaze fixed on Pasiphae, and when he spoke, his words were grated out through clenched teeth.

"She deserves to die"

"_But you will not take her life, nor will any of you!"_

All of them jumped at the ringing tones of the voice that interrupted them. Harsh and uncompromising, it seemed to flow over them, around them..._through _them, reverberating into their very souls, and Jason gasped as the cloaked figure of a woman stepped from the shadows, her eyes flashing with an inner light that seemed to bathe her slight body with its coruscating energy.

And suddenly, inexplicably, Jason began to feel very afraid.


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, here (finally...!) is the third instalment! May I first of all thank all those who have both reviewed my work and sent me some very kind messages, I can only apologise for the time it has taken to put this part up, but having to work around my job commitments and other problems can make writing difficult, including the issues of 'writer's block' of which I'm sure you're all very familiar with! **

**Anyhow, I hope that you all enjoy this next part, and I look forward to your comments! **

* * *

With a measured step the Oracle moved closer to them, her careworn features now little more than a blank mask from which fierce eyes now stared out into theirs.

"_You would defy the will of Poseidon, Hercules of Atlantis?"_

Like the roll of distant thunder the words rippled out as she stretched forth her hand and placed it over the blade, feeling the touch of the cold steel upon her flesh. On her neck the vivid marks of Pasiphae's fingers could be seen, a reminder of what had taken place mere hours ago within her sacred shrine when they had fought, but it was her eyes that held his gaze, the power within them shining like that of a newly-born star. He tried to swallow, but his tongue had cleaved to the roof of his mouth, and all he could do was to stare into the depths of those glowing eyes, transfixed by what he saw written there.

For within them lay his answer...and a terror beyond his imagining.

Stricken, the blade fell from his numbed grip, clattering to the floor as he staggered back against Pythagoras, the younger man grabbing at his shoulders to steady him, his face filled with awe and fear as before them the golden eyes blazed and the powerful voice filled the air.

"_The time has come for a reckoning" _

Pasiphae felt the words reverberate through her, and despite her own years of training and understanding, she trembled inwardly at them. Blood trickled from the sword's tiny nick above the neckline of her tattered clothing, but she barely registered it, a single glance taking in the stricken faces about her. Jason's, his features betraying his tumbling emotions, his brow knitted in a frown of worry. Ariadne's, young and still painfully vulnerable despite her advance in position, those of Jason's friends...each in awe of the presence of a living God.

And yet it was her son who stepped forward, shaking off that fear to stand before this _presence_...and a stab of pride swelled inside her.

A son of Atlantis indeed...and her own blood, filled with courage.

"What reckoning?"

Silence greeted his words. Like glowing coals the Oracle's eyes focussed upon him, flames wreathing the iridescent pupils, and Jason felt himself blanch at their touch. But something rose within him at that gaze, a sweeping sensation of sheer power that shook him to the core and yet which gave him the courage to stand his ground.

"I said," He repeated, "What reckoning?"

The eyes appraised him.

"_A reckoning of pride," _It said_,_ each word like that of a tolling bell," _Of hubris, arrogance and conceit. For long years this city has grown fat upon the land, a great glutton feeding upon the beliefs of its people to grow rich and lazy upon the pretence of devotion and prayer" _

The baleful stare took them all in, the anger in the voice palpable to all.

"_All of you, hear me. In thirty days Atlantis shall be cast down, harrowed to the husk like the wheat in the fields, its soul laid bare for the seas and the winds to devour. The earth will shake, and all will witness with fear the wrath of the Gods, its ending a lesson to all those who believe that they can grow contemptuous of our favour"_

Jason felt his hands contract into fists, outrage overtaking any fear of the being that stood before him.

"You can't! The citizens are innocent!"

The breath caught in Pasiphae's throat, the shouted warning dying on her lips as the Oracle raised her hand, knowing it was already too late to prevent the inevitable. Pain lanced her, the pain of a hope extinguished before it had flowered, the pain of a mother for her son.

"_You dare to question my will, boy?"_

Yellow fire lit the air, and Jason felt a hammer-blow hit his chest, the sheer force of the impact hurling from his feet. Dimly he heard Ariadne and his mother cry out, but as he lay on the dusty floor, the pain was so intense that it blotted all else out, and all eyes were drawn to the Oracle as she drew closer to him, her arm raised, fingers outstretched and etched with fire. Abruptly he was lifted, gagging at the invisible talons that clawed at his throat, an inexorable grip that took the breath from him as his sandaled feet left the ground and he dangled like a doll in the air.

"_Mercy! Lord Poseidon, mercy!"_

Pasiphae's scream, ripped from her very soul, echoed around them, and she was moving, a blur of motion as she fell to her knees in front of the Oracle, her hands clenched before her in supplication, for this was no human, no mortal woman who stood with her son's life in her grasp, but the living embodiment of a God.

"Take my life" She heard herself say, as if from a great distance away, words flowing from her in an unstoppable tide as she stared upwards with pleading eyes," Take my life in place of my son's! He spoke foolishly, my Lord, without knowing..."

"_Silence!"_

The ground rumbled beneath their feet once more, and Pasiphae felt her resolve crumble before the storm. The Oracle stepped back, regarding them both, mother and son, and when she spoke again, it was with a voice filled with merciless cold.

"_You wish mercy? Then I shall be merciful" _

Despite her fear, Pasiphae felt a tiny flicker of hope flare within her. Perhaps her plea had touched something in Poseidon?

But it was a fragile hope, one that was dashed with the being's next words.

"_Atlantis shall be spared, on one condition - that your son's life is exchanged for theirs"_

Hercules felt himself blanche, saw Ariadne stumble and Pythagoras reach out to steady her, and the being's gaze fell upon them.

"_In thirty days I shall return, and it shall be his life...or the lives of all in this city!" _

Again the ground shook, loose debris and dust rising about the glowing figure as it raised its arms, then it was gone, the Oracle's body slumping to floor like a marionette whose strings had been cut, her face beneath her hood as pale as death itself. Jason too fell, gasping and retching, lungs straining for air as he tried to breathe. At his side his mother, her arms reaching for him, her eyes filled with tears that fell like rain as she cradled him.

And in the stunned silence that followed, few would forget the ashen face of their former Queen, nor the keening of her sorrow to the uncaring sky...

* * *

"This is madness, madness!"

Hercules was leaning against a window, the coolness of the night breeze fanning his skin belying the seething anger and frustration that he felt inside. Outside of the palace, the people and guards were working together, sifting through the rubble for survivors, the wounded and the dead. Stunned and numb with grief, each one filled with grief for those who had been lost, they toiled in sweat and tears, a pitiful sight in the flames and fires of torches and burning roofs.

And if Poseidon's wrath had been terrible this time, the next would be far worse.

Seated around the ornate table, its surface now cleared of dust, the others were silent, each occupied with their own thoughts. Jason, still shaken after his ordeal, was at one side, his curling dark hair reflecting the colour of his inward feelings, Pythagoras close by, his thin face drawn and filled with deep emotion, the blueness of his eyes faded now through fatigue and worry. Hercules's own chair, empty now, the big man unable to sit still as pent up anger coursed through his body, the aged wood a legacy of better times long past.

And at its head, two women, bitter rivals for a throne, yet united in their fear. Ariadne, young and beautiful, painfully aware of the weight of the decision to be made and the sacrifice that she might be called upon to make. Pasiphae, composed now but eerily vulnerable, her own features lined and her gaze fixed within.

Only the Oracle was not present, for she lay now, insensible, in her bed.

Finally it was Jason who broke the stillness, his voice measured and quiet.

"There's no choice"

Ariadne took his hand in hers, pleading with her eyes.

"There has to be another way," She whispered," This cannot happen"

He looked at her, a wan smile touching his lips. He had thought the future settled, the path he'd chosen for once lying clear. He and Ariadne would have ruled and let their city state grow, have children, sons and daughters to carry on the dynasty. They would have grown old together, spending their twilight years in comfort and love.

But it had been but a dream, a ghost of a future that had vanished as the morning dew.

"There isn't, my love," He said quietly," You heard Poseidon's words. It's either my life or the lives of every single one of you, and the lives all of the citizens of Atlantis. Either I submit, or the rest of you pay the price"

"By all the Gods," Hercules stepped forward, his meaty hands stretched out, "If I'd had the throat of that one in my grip."

"It would not have availed you at all"

The quiet, tired but still commanding tones of Pasiphae interrupted him, the harshness of her hawk-like stare moving him to silence as she rose, all of her royal bearing within that one fluid movement despite the dirt, blood and sweat that begrimed her appearance, her clothing torn but still giving her a regal countenance. With a measured step she moved towards him, her eyes on his as she came closer.

"Poseidon could not be killed by you, or any of us," She said, reaching out to take his hands in hers, the very same hands that had but a few scant hours before held the tip of a sword to her throat, "He is a God, and as such he could have obliterated you as easily as you would swat a fly"

Looking into her face, he knew the truth of her words, and his hands dropped.

"There has to be _something_ we can do," he murmured, "Something that will turn this terrible sentence. We cannot stand by and do _nothing_"

Before she could answer, Ariadne spoke, her voice dripping with icy disdain.

"Why would _she_ want to do anything?" She too had risen, "After all, this whole situation suits her purposes!"

Sudden fury blazed in Pasiphae's breast, but with an effort she controlled it, turning to face her daughter-in-law with a look of indignant, dangerous rage.

"And just how," She said," Does this suit me?"

"If Jason dies, the true heir of Atlantis will be gone! Atlantis will lie open to your depredations, your vaunting ambitions! With him gone you can try again to take the throne!"

"And lose my only son in the process?"

"You cared nothing for his life before this!" Ariadne retorted," You would have seen him die!"

Pasiphae shook her head. "No, not dead. Humbled perhaps, but not dead"

"_Humbled?" _ Anger and fear overtook Ariadne's usual calm demeanour as she stood before her rival," _You_ wanted him _humbled_! How _dare_ you!"

"And yet _I_ would have given my life for his!" Pasiphae shot back," I did not see _you_ offer to make such a sacrifice!"

The room erupted into clamour, and Jason was on his feet, moving to intercede between his mother and his wife, when abruptly he caught sight of a robed woman enter the room, her face hidden in the shadows.

"_Enough of this!"_

Sudden silence descended upon the chamber, as the figure stepped into the light, her eyes darkened, her hair unkempt, and Jason gasped as he saw who it was, her gaze falling upon each one of them in turn.

"You squabble like children when there is yet hope," The Oracle said, "All is not lost. But the path will be a perilous one"

Pasiphae shook off Hercules's restraining hand.

"Speak plainly," She demanded, "Tell us what can be done?"

A tiny smile touched the corner of the Oracle's mouth.

"Jason is touched by the Gods," She said, "As indeed are you. It is these qualities that can win the day," She paused, as if measuring her next words with care. "That, and the knowledge that you alone possess"

"Knowledge that I possess?" Pasiphae frowned, momentarily confused. Had the woman finally lost her mind? "What 'knowledge' do you speak of?"

The smile widened and, with great dignity, the Oracle took her seat.

"That," She said, gesturing to them all to sit, "is what we must discuss..."


End file.
